


all the memories we never had

by aconite_blue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Cats, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mary MacDonald's Cat, or more specifically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 20:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20031775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aconite_blue/pseuds/aconite_blue
Summary: Seven moments in Sirius and Remus' relationship.





	all the memories we never had

** _First year_ **

There’s rain on the windows. There’s rain on the windows and the sky is grey and weeping. Sirius watches droplets roll down the windowpane as the Hogwarts Express chugs along to some unknown location where he’ll be spending the majority of the next seven years of his life. Today, he thinks, is the day he’s free. Sure, he’ll have to go back to Grimmauld Place for the holidays and his parents have probably told his cousins to watch him, but he has practice dodging his relatives and his duties as the Black heir. Besides, he has no intention of getting sorted into Slytherin, which will piss off the Black family fabulously, and he knows that there aren’t half as many rules in Hogwarts as there are with his parents. He absolutely cannot wait for liberati—

He’s cut off from his thoughts when a voice exclaims, particularly loudly, “And then I yanked my broom up just as the car was about to hit me! I escaped death by two centimeters!”

Grey eyes flicker to the obnoxious boy two seats down from him, the boy that’s currently preoccupied with a very dramatic reenactment of a flying trip where he supposedly almost got run over by a speeding muggle car to a starry-eyed audience. He sighs. While Sirius himself almost never objects to dramatic reenactments of greatly exaggerated events, James has been telling this story for the last hour to anybody who will willingly (and sometimes unwillingly) listen. There’s only so many times someone can listen to James’ god-awful impressions of a screaming muggle couple.

“Tedious, isn’t it?” a voice says. Sirius looks up to see a bemused boy in the seat across from him—a boy that, barely a minute ago, appeared to be fast asleep. Curly brown hair frames an angular face, and long lashes flutter around dark green eyes. It occurs to Sirius that the boy is very pretty. Sirius immediately squashes down the thought.

“Feigning unconsciousness is only interesting when there are worthwhile things to eavesdrop on,” the boy continues on. He gives Sirius a shy smile. “My name is Remus Lupin. What’s yours?”

“Sirius Black.” He smirks. “Pleasure to meet you, Remus.” He extends a hand. “I’m glad  _ somebody _ here sympathizes with me. There’s no way James pulled his broom up ninety degrees at full speed without breaking it.”

Remus blinks, long and slow, eyelashes  _ just _ brushing his skin, and takes Sirius’ proffered hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Sirius.” He looks over to a rather rotund boy listening enraptured to James’ antics. The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Peter seems rather captivated by the story.”

Sirius barks out a laugh. “Peter, is it? He looks like he’d believe me if I told him that the sky is green and the rain is on fire.”

Remus bites his lip, but the amusement in the corners of his mouth and the mischief in his eyes give him away. “You’re very interesting, Sirius Black. I’d like to get to know you better.”

Sirius counts that as a win. “Likewise, Remus Lupin. Likewise.”

** _Second year_ **

“ _ Shh, James, you’re going to get us caught! Don’t trip so loudly!” _

_ “Oh yeah? I’d like to see  _ you  _ try and walk in the dark!” _

_ “It’s not my fault you’re blind!” _

“It’s not whose fault James is blind?”

Sirius and James both jump, and James’ invisibility cloak slides off their shoulders. Remus is sitting in one of the Gryffindor common room chairs, looking supremely unimpressed, and, for some bizarre reason, stroking Mary MacDonald’s brown tabby cat.

“Um.” James looks over to Sirius, a question in his eyes. Sirius just shrugs, so James stares at Remus. “Why do you have a cat?”

Sirius wants to smack him. He’s curious about the cat as well, but now is  _ really not the time. _ Remus just caught them sneaking out after curfew when they’d  _ explicitly promised _ not to do that—due to an incident with Marlene McKinnon and pumpkin pasties that Sirius would _rather_ not think about—barely a week ago. And sure, he and James might be the ringleaders of their little friend group, and they all know that Remus can’t stop them from doing what they want unless he throws them out of a window (which he had done, once, to prevent James and Sirius from dueling Snape in the hallways, and which had proved to be the only method that has  _ successfully _ stopped James and Sirius from doing  _ anything _ ), but getting on Remus’ bad side is an experience that Sirius wants to go through again hopefully  _ never. _

He turns back to Remus to either get down on his knees and beg for mercy or prepare to run to the next country. Thankfully, Remus just smirks. “The cat? It’s a muggle thing. You wouldn’t understand.” Then his face grows serious (and Sirius can’t even silently congratulate himself for the mental pun when he feels actual terror grow inside of him). “What were you two doing, sneaking around after curfew? You  _ know _ that you could get another week of detention if you’re caught.”

Sirius gives a weak smile. “Good thing we weren’t caught, right?”

“Like we could ever get caught anyway,” James scoffs.

“You said that that time with the pigs and the cake. You were scrubbing out bedpans without magic for a  _ month _ .” Remus scowls, but there’s no real fury behind it. “Just-“ He looks at them pleadingly. “Just  try not to do this again, alright?”

“We’ll  _ try _ ,” Sirius promises cheerfully. He wraps an arm around Remus’ shoulders and one around James’. “C’mon, let’s get back to our room so James and I can show you what we nabbed from the kitchens!”

Remus just sighs, then smiles softly, green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Okay,” He says. “Let’s go.”

** _Third year_ **

Sirius barges into Remus’ hospital room, James and Peter trailing after him, and ignores Madam Pomfrey’s furious sputtering. Remus weakly looks up from where he’s lying on the bed. 

“What are you doing here?” he rasps out. “This-“ He flinches as his movement seems to disturb one of his many bandaged wounds. “You shouldn’t go against hospital protocol.”

“Psh, when was the last time any of us followed  _ protocol _ ?” James snorts. “Besides, we’ve figured it out!”

Remus pales. Then, like he wants to say it but is afraid of doing so, asks, “Figured what out?”

“That you’re a werewolf!” Peter pipes up helpfully.

Remus makes a sound quite similar to the one James made when he choked on a watermelon seed. “I- okay,” he whispers. “That’s okay.” He looks up at them, eyes wide and pleading. “Please don’t tell anyone, please don’t. I’ll get out of your way; I can ask for a room change. Just please don’t tell, I can’t—”

“Woah, wait,” Sirius says. “We’re not telling anyone. Why would you think that? We’re not- we wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Thank you,” Remus murmurs, then, with a sort of resignment, adds, “If you want me gone, I can leave. I can sort it out with the headmaster by tomorrow.”

“Why would we want that?”

“Well- you know. You said it yourself. I’m-” Remus swallows, “I’m a werewolf. A monster.” Seeing them about to protest, he adds, “And you don’t have to pity me either. It’s fine. I understand.”

Light glints off James’ glasses when he takes a step back. “Remus. You realize that we’re not just stringing you along for laughs, right? You do realize that we, like, care for you?”

“I- um. You do?”

Peter looks at him solemnly. “Yeah, mate. We’re your  _ friends _ . We’ll still be your friends even if you’re, you know. A werewolf.”

Sirius shrugs. “Besides, if we kicked you out, who would mastermind all our pranks for us? James here is too scared to go for the big things, and Pete’s just too scared.” He smirks. “I, of course, am amazing at everything, but it takes  _ effort. _ I need to rest my genius brain sometimes too.”

Something that looks a lot like hope crosses Remus’ face. “You don’t think I’m a monster?”

James snorts. “Please, you wear jumpers in the middle of the summer while drinking tea and read those boring old muggle books all the time and actually  _ do your homework _ . You’re the farthest thing from a monster anyone can get.”

Remus’ lips quirk up in a small smile. “Thank you.”

Sirius grins back and bows dramatically. “You’re very welcome, Mister Lupin.”

“Yes, well, this has all been  _ very _ touching.” Madam Pomfrey’s voice makes them all jump, and Sirius turns to an unimpressed Hogwarts Matron staring back at them. “Unfortunately, I have a patient confined to another two days of bed rest, who is also currently  _ not allowed visitors. _ You boys get  _ out. _ ”

Sirius scurries out of the Hospital Wing behind James and Peter. Before he leaves, Madam Pomfrey catches him around the wrist. She doesn’t smile, but her eyes soften. “Thank you,” she tells him. “You have no idea how much he needed that.”

Sirius nods at her, a silent understanding crossing between them before she lets go. 

Then he runs after his friends, shouting at them to  _ wait up, my shoes are not made for running _ while Madam Pomfrey hisses at them that  _ this is the infirmary, people are resting, quiet down! _

** _Fourth year_ **

James groans, falling back onto the bed. “An-and then, and then she told me, she said I was too pushy! I don’t even know what she  _ means _ ! Snivellus always- he always pushes her around, and he lies to her!” He takes another deep drink from the bottle of Firewhiskey and passes it to Sirius, who’s sitting next to him.

“I don’t know, mate,” Sirius says. He drinks from the bottle as well and passes it to Peter. “It soun- it kinda sounds like she,  I don’t know , doesn’t want to go on a date with you and hasn’t changed her mind the last  _ forty-two _ times you asked. It’s hopeless. It really- you really shouldn’t have chosen the hardest girl in school to catch.”

“But Sirius,” Peter says earnestly, drinking from the bottle and passing it to Remus, who makes a face and mutters something about  _ exchanging saliva with these idiots _ and passes it to James. “You can’t choose who you love. It just happens with who it’s meant to happen with.” He shrugs. “And if James is meant to love somebody so obviously out of his league it’s painful to watch, then that’s his business.”

“ _ Thank you _ , Peter,” James tells him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and passing the bottle to Sirius. Then the words seem to register and he frowns. “Hey, Lily- Lily’s not painfully out of my league! She just hasn’t seen my- my  _ charm. _ ” At Peter and Sirius’ doubtful sniggers, he adds, “Besides, aren’t you going after Dorcas Meadowes? She’s, like, the smartest girl in her year, and she’s a  _ Prefect _ .”

“Dorcas Meadowes?” Sirius asks over Peter’s sputtering. “I didn’t know you fancied her! Really, Pete, you shouldn’t pine after- after every girl that looks your way.”

“Tell that to James!”

“Yeah,” Sirius says, “but the difference is he only pines after Lily, while you’re on, what, girl number sixteen now?”

Peter’s cheeks, already flushed pink from alcohol, are steadily turning redder. Before Sirius can experience on of Peter’s  _ very  _ amusing angry rants, though, James cuts in. “So, uh, Remus! tell us about any future girlfriends you might have!”

Sirius blinks at that question, then glances over to Remus, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed watching them with equal amounts amusement and resignation, and who now suddenly looks uncomfortable. He can’t quite imagine  _ Remus _ , perpetual wearer of jumpers and religious tea drinker, falling for  _ any _ girl, no matter what they’re like. It’s just  _ not right. _ Before he can say so, Remus speaks up. “Oh, er, there isn’t a girl that I fancy right now.”

For some reason, Sirius feels ridiculously satisfied at that.

“C’mon!” James shouts. Sirius, Peter, and Remus all wince at the volume. “There’s got to be  _ somebody. _ We’re all  _ fourteen _ . Tha- that’s really  _ old _ . Next thing you know, you’re out of school and lonely for- for  _ life _ !” He drains the rest of the bottle, and Sirius can’t even feel indignant at that, because James is getting louder and louder, talking about how they should “grasp opportunities” when they’re still “young and handsome.”

“Right,” Sirius drawls. “Tell me how that’s working out for you.”

James flushes at that. “I’m working on Lily, okay? She’s just tough to crack!”

Remus smirks, seemingly comfortable again now that the conversation has moved away from him. “I’m sure she’d appreciate it if I told her you basically compared her to a walnut.”

James’ eyes widen, but before he can say anything, Remus slides off the bed and stretches. A pale sliver of skin peeks out from underneath the loose shirt he’s wearing, and Sirius can feel his eyes drawn to it. 

“Well,” Remus says, “I’m going to sleep. Have fun being hungover tomorrow.” He then collapses on the nearest bed, which happens to be Sirius’. Sirius goes slack-jawed at the sight.

James casts him a  _ look _ . “You are so far gone, mate,” he whispers. 

“What?” Sirius hisses at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

James just pats him on the head sympathetically.

** _Fifth year_ **

Sirius is an idiot. He is an  _ absolute idiot _ , and he really should’ve seen this coming but because he’s an  _ idiot _ he ruined it. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Remus. I didn’t think—“ 

Green eyes narrow. “That’s right, Sirius, you  _ didn’t _ think. Do you realize that if James had been one second late, I would’ve  _ killed _ someone?” Remus’ hands tangle in his brown hair. “I just- I can’t  _ believe you _ ! Why would you do this? Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.” A deep breath. “I mean, I realize you don’t feel things the way other people do, but  _ Merlin, _ Sirius.” He laughs, a bitter, broken sound. “I really thought you were better than this.”

“Remus-“ Sirius starts.

“Don’t.” Remus turns away. “Just- don’t. If you explain yourself, I’ll forgive you. And I  _ shouldn’t  _ forgive you. So. Don’t talk to me.”

Sirius wonders if this is what heartbreak sounds like.   
  


Sirius ducks under a spell as it ricochets off the wall and hurls his lamp into the window. A thousand shards of glass explode outwards and rain down onto the street below. Grabbing his trunk and summoning his broom, he leaps out of the window and swings himself into the broom. Sirius can hear Walburga’s yelling and Orion’s shouting. Regulus, he knows, is quiet, staring after him with those soul-searching eyes. 

But that doesn’t matter now. Walburga and Orion can curse him all they want, and Regulus can frown thoughtfully at him whenever he feels like it, but it won’t matter anymore. After sixteen god-awful years in Grimmauld Place, he’s finally free. And to think that to his eleven-year-old self, Hogwarts was freedom; five years after that, and he’s running away from home! 

Sirius laughs, the sound echoing through the darkness. He leans against the broom and smiles into the polished wood. “Can you believe it?” he whispers. “I’ve left.” He raises his head and shouts, “I’ve left the Black family!”

_ Thanks again, Uncle Alphard. _ Sirius grins and sets a course for James’ house.

He reaches his destination the next morning. Just as he lands on the front porch, Euphemia Potter rushes out of the front door wearing her dressing robe.

“Sirius!” she exclaims. “Are you all right? Are the Blacks giving you trouble again?” One thing Sirius always appreciates about the Potters is that they never call Walburga, Orion, and Regulus his family. It’s always “the Blacks,” or, on particularly bad days, “those bloody bastards!” Meeting the Potters is one of the many things he’ll always be grateful to James for. 

Sirius gives a wry grin. “Yeah,” he says, “I got in a bit of a rough spot. I suppose I’ll be blasted off the tree soon enough.” He snorts. “Sixteen years too late, I say.”

Euphemia smiles understandingly. “Come in, James is waiting for you. Stayed up all last night, too—he’s asleep now.”

“Tch, sounds like James.”

Life with the Potters is different from life with the Blacks. It’s a lot easier — or maybe easier isn’t the right word. Simpler. The Potters don’t expect anything from him, and everything they do for him — everything that  _ matters— _ is unconditional.

That’s why, when Sirius sees Remus at the breakfast table on his fifteenth day of living with the Potters, all he feels is resignation. With his luck, nothing this good could last for very long. Remus isn’t someone who wants to see Sirius right now (or possibly ever, but Sirius doesn’t let himself think that), and Sirius flinches at the thought of Remus hating him even more.

Except all Remus does is look up from the mug of tea he’s drinking and give Sirius a glare—not one of his ‘I hate you more than I hate cold tea’ glares, but one of the ones that say ‘you’re an idiot and you’re going to die someday by slipping on a banana peel and breaking your neck.’ 

“Sirius,” Remus hisses, “that was the most stupid, idiotic, moronic,  _ foolish _ things you’ve ever done.” Remus stands up, walks over to him, and jabs a finger into his chest. “Did you know how  _ worried _ I was? I had to find out that you had been disinherited from the  _ Daily Prophet _ because  _ apparently _ you and James didn’t bother telling your friends that you were _ actually alive. _ Nobody knew where you were. I thought you were dead!” Another glare, one that looks betrayed. “You could’ve sent a letter or something!” 

Sirius stares at him, eyes wide. There are so many things he wants to say right now, but he can only stammer out, “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”

Remus’ eyes soften. “I don’t want you to bloody  _ die _ .” A smile, and then Remus wraps his arms around Sirius. Sirius doesn’t usually like to be touched, but Remus is warm and soft and he feels like _home_, so Sirius leans into the hug.

“Well,” Sirius stutters, trying to regain his composure, “I don’t particularly want to die either.”

Remus laughs, a soft, quiet sound. He gives one of those lip-quirking smiles, and says, “Welcome home, Sirius. Welcome home.”

** _Sixth year_ **

“C’mon, Moony, it’ll be fun! There’s nothing to be  _ scared _ about.”

Remus huffs. “I’ll make that judgment call myself, thank you very much.”

Sirius pouts. “Just one flight around the Quidditch pitch? You’ve never been on a broom before—you always skipped the flying classes back in our first year.”

“And that’s for a very good reason. I like my own two feet on solid ground.”

“Just one flight?” Sirius does his best puppy eyes. “You don’t even have to do much! I’ll be the one flying; you can just hold on.”

Remus looks at him and sighs. “All right.” Then, as Sirius cheers, “But just one flight.”

“This is the worst decision I’ve ever made in my life.”

“Don’t dramatic, Moony. This’ll be fun!”

“People were not born to fly. There is a  _ reason _ why so many Quidditch players die before they hit forty. This is a very bad idea- Padfoot, why are you smiling at me like that?”

“Oh, no reason. Off we go, now!”

Remus actually  _ shrieks _ as Sirius kicks off of the ground. He doesn’t even seem to be embarrassed, because his hold on Sirius tightens and he buries his face in Sirius’ hair. Sirius can hear him mumbling to himself, mostly about how this is a  _ bad idea, why did I do this _ and  _ oh Merlin, the broom is lurching I’m going to die _ . Sirius feels his cheeks warm at Remus’ hold on him, and he feels eternally grateful that the Quidditch pitch is currently empty and nobody can see his reaction.

Sirius does another loop around the pitch, then angles the broom downward and starts to land. The moment Sirius’ feet hit the ground, Remus staggers off the broom and collapses onto the grass. “I,” he states, slightly breathless but firm nonetheless, “am  _ never _ doing that again.”

“Oh c’mon,” Sirius wheedles. “That was fun!”

Remus arches an eyebrow. “You flew around the Quidditch pitch on a broom while I tried not to fall off and break my neck.”

“Exactly. Fun!”

A sigh. “I would worry about your mental health if I didn’t know you lost it back in our third year.”

Sirius makes a wounded sound. “You’re so  _ mean  _ to me, Moony!”

Remus rolls his eyes, gets off the grass, and starts dragging Sirius back to the castle. “You deserve it. Now hurry up—we’ve got that Transfiguration test in an hour, and I can’t wait to watch Euphemia kick your ass over holidays when you fail it.”

** _Seventh year_ **

Sirius breathes out and watches as a cloud of smoke drifts up into the air. Music pulses in the background, and Sirius can vaguely hear James shouting  _ It’s my party! The Firewhiskey is free! _ Sirius winces, and thanks whatever immortal omnipresent being that’s currently presiding over the universe that he’s not there for  _ that  _ train wreck to happen.

Sirius hears a door open behind him and turns around. “Hey,” He says as Remus joins him on the balcony.

Remus frowns at him. “You shouldn’t smoke. It’s not good for you.”

“Eh,” Sirius shrugs. “I’ll be dead before I’m forty anyways. Might as well live a little.”

Remus gives him a sharp look. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Or what? It’ll happen?” Then, when Remus’ glare grows cutting, “Alright, fine. I s’pose we should be talking about the future or something, now that we’re out of school.”

Remus sighs, then folds his arm on the balcony banister. “I still can’t believe we’ve actually graduated. It’s been  _ seven years _ since we first came to Hogwarts. It’s over all too soon.”

“You know what  _ I _ can’t believe? James actually got together with Lily. Those two are bad enough on their own—together, they’re going to destroy the Auror office and give the wizarding world a collective heart attack.” His lips quirk at the thought. Lily, as he soon found out after she and James started dating, is an absolute  _ spitfire _ . With a mind as sharp as a knife and a tongue to match, she and James together have managed to wreak havoc on Hogwarts. Sirius didn’t even  _ know _ that she pranked the professors she thought were incompetent—she was definitely more subtle than he and James were. “Anyway,” he looks up at Remus. “What are you planning to do now that we’ve finished school?”

Remus hums. “I’m planning on going to muggle university, actually. There are a couple that have some really interesting history courses—”

“What?” Sirius interrupts him, scandalized. “You want to go to  _ more  _ school? Why?”

Remus gives him a judgemental look. “To get a good muggle job, I need to go to university. It’s not as if I have any chance of getting employment in the wizarding world.”

“Why not?”

“Evil, rabid, man-eating wolf here.” Remus’ voice is drier than dust.

“Oh, right,” Sirius says stupidly. Remus might be able to claim chronic sickness around muggles, but in the wizarding community he’d be found out as soon as someone bothered to look at a lunar calendar. Sirius is of the opinion that the prejudice against werewolves is old-fashioned and dumb, but even he can admit that it’s easy to hate them if you don’t know how devastatingly  _ human _ they are. Sirius himself used to think of werewolves as uncivilized beasts before Remus and his old-man jumpers, thick muggle books, impeccable time management, and bracingly bitter tea came along, wholly and undeniably human. “Well,” he starts, grinning widely. “I guess I’ll have to open a shop and exclusively hire werewolves.”

Remus snorts. “That shop would get mobbed by angry wizards within a week.”

“No it won't—I won’t  _ tell _ anybody they’re werewolves. It’ll be like a secret werewolf safe house!”

“You’re forgetting the part where everyone realizes all your employees are gone on every single full moon.”

“...It’s got some kinks I need to work out,” Sirius admits.

“It’s a nice idea.” Remus sighs. “It just would never work.” Then, somewhat bashfully, he adds, “But thanks. For thinking of it. Because most people wouldn’t. They just sort of pat me on the back and tell me I’ll think of something. You’re the first one to try and help, even if the idea would probably get you arrested for ‘protecting hostile werewolves’ or something equally asinine.”

“Oh,” Sirius says, surprised. Then, because he’s not sure what else to say, he adds, “You’re welcome.” It’s not as if he can tell Remus  _ I want you to work with me because I’ve been in love with you ever since we were twelve and you threw me out of a window and into the Black Lake. _

It’s only when Remus says “You’ve what” that Sirius realized he just said all of that aloud. 

“Um,” Sirius starts. “You can ignore that. I understand that you don’t feel the same way. It won’t change our friendship at all.”

Remus tilts his head. There's a strange expression on his face. “You’ve been in love with me since you were twelve?”

“Yes?” It’s pitched into a question at the end.

Remus looks at him, green eyes glowing like gems in the low light, then steps closer and pulls Sirius into a kiss. 

It takes a full fifteen seconds for Sirius to realize what’s going on, and then Remus is pulling away, cheekbones dusted with pink. Sirius gapes. “What was that?” 

Remus gives him a dry look. “It’s a kiss.”

“I know it’s a kiss! But- but why did you do it?”

“People usually kiss when they’re in love.”

“You mean- you-”

“Yes, Sirius. I have also been in love with you for quite some time.”

Sirius blinks. “How long?”

A smirk. “That would be telling.” 

“That’s not fair! I want to know if I was pining hopelessly or not!”

“I have to keep  _ some _ secrets, Padfoot. You pretty much know everything about me.” Remus frowns.

And, well. Sirius decides that Remus shouldn’t be looking unhappy—they’re at a  _ party _ , after all—so the only solution, obviously, is to kiss the frown away.   
  
  


** _Post-Hogwarts, 1996_ **

Remus closes the leather-bound notebook he found in Sirius’ drawer and clutches it to his chest.

“Sirius,” he murmurs. “You absolute  _ idiot _ .”

He pulls his knees up to his chest—a position he hasn’t adopted since he was thirteen—and draws the blankets up to his chin. He rests his head on his knees, horribly aware of the empty space in the bed next to him. He knows he looks like a mess—a thirty-six year old man, sleep-deprived and puffy-eyed, hugging a diary and sitting like a child—but he can’t bring it in himself to care.

“Why did you do it? Why?” Remus can feel his eyes start to burn with unshed tears. “You-” he makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. “You  _ fucking idiot. _ If you’d just- if you’d just  _ waited _ -” Remus curls up tighter. “You could’ve lived, Sirius,” he whispers. “You could’ve lived. You didn’t have to die.”

White-knuckled hands grip the notebook so hard it almost tears. Remus’ shoulders start to shake as silent tears run down his face and seep into the blankets.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry


End file.
